


Two Blondes in Mistral

by RosyPalms



Series: Requests [36]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Creampie, Erotica, F/M, First Time, Fist Fights, Kissing, Large Breasts, Missionary Position, Nipple Licking, Romance, Training, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosyPalms/pseuds/RosyPalms
Summary: Their stay in the house in Mistral was more eventful than the show would have you believe. During their time there, Jaune and Yang grow close.
Relationships: Jaune Arc/Yang Xiao Long
Series: Requests [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1197796
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56





	Two Blondes in Mistral

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by [MKFire] & [TheDonMafia]

There was nothing like a good meal with friends, even if they brought up events better left forgotten. Washing dishes kept Jaune busy, the monotonous work soothing him. After their long journey, reaching the city had felt almost like coming home, and the arrival of Yang and Weiss made it even sweeter. Team’s RWBY and JNPR, united at last; or as united as they would ever be. Thankfully, Jaune didn’t get a chance to dwell on dark thoughts.

“Here’s the rest,” Yang said, putting down stacked bowls in a clatter. At a glance everything seemed normal with Yang; the sunny disposition, the way she moved. It was easy to forget that one of her arms was prosthetic. Again, Jaune felt himself approaching a precipice of depression and regret as he stared at the mechanical arm.

“My eyes are up here, Vomitboy,” Yang purred. Jaune blinked and looked at her. Yang’s expression was bemused and smug in equal measure. It took him a moment, but when he realized what she was implying his face heated.

“I w-wasn’t…!” he sputtered, but Yang’s laughter gave him pause. He had heard it plenty that evening, but now, in the relative privacy of the kitchen, he could really appreciate how genuine it sounded; as if the last half a year or so had never happened.

“No worries, Jaune. If I didn’t want them looked at, I’d cover them up,” Yang said with a wink and a smile. It was a small comfort, and Jaune wanted to defend himself more, but Yang was already turning to the door.

“Yang,” he called. She paused and looked at him quizzically. “I’m glad you’re okay now.” She blinked, seemingly surprised. Then, her expression shifted into a beautiful smile, not jovial, not cocky, just warm. Yang had always been one of the, if not the prettiest girl at Beacon. That smile alone was enough to build that case.

“Thanks, Jaune,” she said, “I’m glad you and the others made it safe and sound.” Jaune didn’t know if that was entirely accurate, but they had all made it, in any event. Yang turned to leave, but hesitated and turned to him once more. “And thank you for taking care of Ruby.”

“Of course, but she took care of us just as much. We wouldn’t have made it without her.” Jaune thought Yang’s chest swelled a little with pride when he commended Ruby. Still smiling, she turned and walked away.

With nothing to do but wait, training became an integral part of their days. Everyone spent hours sparring, improving, preparing for things to come.

Jaune’s clothes were clammy under his armor. He swung his sword in flowing motions, not affording Yang chances to strike back. She seemed to be dancing, dodging his swings with minimal movements and deflecting the swings she couldn’t dodge. Her new arm did as much work as her trusty old gauntlet.

“Look at you! Someone’s been practicing!” she said, and Jaune wasn’t sure if she was praising or mocking him. He had not landed a single blow in a two-minute exchange, though it could hardly be called that. Yang had made no move to test his defense. Growing frustrated, he committed himself to a surprise thrust attack.

Suddenly, Yang was a blur, dodging the blow and grabbing his arm with one hand, and with her mechanical hand she grasped his blade. She twisted his arm, forcing him to bend lest she broke something. There was only one way out. Jaune let go of the sword.

The sudden loss of tension disrupted Yang’s balance, and Jaune managed to free himself from her grasp. She stood there for a moment, awkwardly holding Jaune’s weapon before shrugging and tossing it over her shoulder; utterly out of reach. She advanced with long strides and started raining punches down on him. Thankfully, Jaune still had his shield. Blows and gunshots thundered against it, before Yang brought up both legs, delivering a kick that sent Jaune reeling backwards. She performed a backflip off his shield and landed gracefully, cocky grin in place.

“Well, what are you gonna do without your weapon?” she asked. It was a problem, he realized. He could huddle behind his shield, and possibly keep her at bay. However, even if he managed that, he wouldn’t win that way. He collapsed the shield and assumed a fighting stance. Yang pursed her lips and nodded ponderously for a moment.

“ _A_ for guts, I’ll give you that,” she said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” With that, she advanced, bringing her guard up. For a few seconds, it looked like Jaune might stand a chance. He managed to block a few punches, and the ones that did connect mostly did so ineffectually against his armor.

Things were over quickly when Yang brought her legs to bear. A few kicks and his knees were ready to buckle. Yang saw the break in his defenses. A leg sweep flowed seamlessly into an elbow blow to the chest. Jaune went flying and touched ground hard. Before he could even try to rise, a metal fist hit the ground next to his head, cracking the tiles.

“You’ll need to work on your hand-to-hand combat,” Yang said, straightening. She offered him a hand. “Again?” Jaune looked at the hand. He was tired, but, to his surprise, the only thing seriously injured was his pride. He didn’t stand a chance, and that irked him, but he was not too proud to accept help when it was offered; when he needed it. Pyrrha had taught him better than that.

“Again,” he said and took the hand.

Weeks of training showed results. Yang utterly pummeled him at first, but after eating dirt time after time, Jaune got better. He still lost every bout, but he lasted longer, took fewer hits, and even managed to land a few of his own. It was motivating, and Yang seemed to enjoy her new punching bag. They trained hard, and often until daylight was out.

On one such occasion, the sun hung just above the horizon. Since Jaune began knocking Yang to the ground from time to time, she had stopped wearing her street clothes to training, instead opting for a tight top, and matching shorts. Her hair was tied up so he couldn’t grab it as easily. Similarly, Jaune had exchanged armor and jeans for a tanktop and loose shorts. The resulting increase in mobility was considerable. Not enough to beat Yang, maybe, but it gave him a fighting chance.

She came at him hard, throwing rapid punches to his midsection before doing a sudden twist to deliver an overhead axe kick. Pearls of sweat clung to her exposed midriff, arms and legs, shining in the light of the setting sun. Each powerful move tore droplets from her, like embers rising from a fire. She was ablaze with it. Only the fire in her eyes could rival the display.

Yang hadn’t taken Jaune seriously at first, and for good reason, but he had taken to the training well, and now she enjoyed the bouts. She enjoyed battering an opponent who could take a hit without crumpling, she enjoyed seeing his defenses crumble before her assault, and she even enjoyed that defeating Jaune became more taxing each day. She enjoyed his improvement.

Of course, Jaune was oblivious to these things in the middle of combat. He had no time to marvel at the impressive figure Yang was cutting, nor had he the wherewithal to acknowledge the satisfied smile on her face as she came at him. There was a heel coming straight at his head.

He brought up his arms in a cross-guard, catching the kick. Even so, the force of the impact rocked through his arms and made him wince. Worse yet, Yang had hoped for the block. She swung up her other leg and backflipped, kicking Jaune’s exposed chin in the process. He staggered backwards, managing to keep on his feet, and recovered in time to see Yang coming in swinging. 

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer at this rate and decided to change his strategy. As good a fighter as Yang was, Jaune held the weight advantage, and thanks to her training, he knew how to use it.

He charged her, ducking under a punch, and tackled her to the ground. The impact didn’t seem to jolt her at all. Yang kept up a heavy barrage of punches and kicks, even while she tried to work her way on top. However, with her freedom of movement greatly reduced, Jaune took the hits and focused on getting her into a hold.

It was a fierce struggle. Yang did not let up for even a second; never giving up, never surrendering. Gradually, Jaune pinned her legs with his own and managed to take hold of her arms, forcing them to the ground. When the struggle had finally ceased, he was on top of her, and both of them were breathing heavily. The sun was almost gone now. Even so, Jaune saw Yang’s lilac eyes staring back at him, bright and unwavering. He realized that she was not defeated yet, and couldn’t help but feel impressed. If he loosened his grip on her at all, he knew she would lash out and continue fighting. He admired that strength, that willpower.

She really was beautiful. Not just her eyes; her nose, her lips; her graceful neck, her breasts, rising and falling with every breath. Was she closer now? Jaune felt her breath brushing his face. Their lips inched closer. Somehow, her eyes took on a new quality. The fierceness seemed to fade, but not the fire, or maybe it was another kind of fire.

Jaune felt drawn. He relaxed, knowing that Yang would sense the weakness and punish it, but the punishment didn’t come. His hands slid from her wrists into her hands. Their fingers interlocked, the hold their shared tender. Only the feel of cold metal in one took away from it. He felt her body pressed against him, so soft and inviting.

The result was predictable. Jaune grew hard. He was still pressed against her, surely she felt it. He thought her eyes widened a little when it happened, but he couldn’t be sure anymore. It was almost completely dark now. Then, lights turned on in the house.

“Yang, Jaune, dinner’s ready!” Ruby called. Both of them yelped and clumsily separated. Jaune’s erection was plainly visible in his loose shorts, and Yang’s top showed two hard points that hadn’t been there before. 

“We’re coming,” Yang called tonelessly, eyes still fixed on Jaune. They didn’t speak. They simply got up, brushed of dust, and waited for the obvious signs of their arousal to die down before heading inside.

The following day was awkward, and so was the one after that. Despite the distance, Jaune felt Yang’s eyes resting on him; during training, during meals, when he came out of the shower. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he hoped it wasn’t. He even felt a little confident that it wasn’t.

He knew he was staring. Jaune couldn’t tear his eyes from her after their close encounter. He missed the closeness. He wanted to feel her again, grab her and crush her against his chest. Warm, soft, beautiful Yang, nothing like the Yang that beat him to a pulp every day and yet the same woman. She was intoxicating.

Then, on the evening of the third day, someone knocked at his door. There she was, looking up at him with her dazzling eyes. Like him, she had just taken a shower. Her hair was still a little damp and smelled like strawberries. It looked like all she wore that evening was a long sweater that feel past her hips. It slipped off of one shoulder, granting a deep look into her cleavage.

She came in under some pretense. They talked, though in truth it was little more than mumbling from both of them. She inched closer, and Jaune felt drawn again; to touch her, embrace her.

To tear the clothes from her body and throw her on the bed. He resisted that particular urge, but drifted closer to her still. When she was in arms reach, he wondered if she felt this… attraction, too. It wasn’t just her beauty, or sexiness. Something about Yang made Jaune feel at ease. He had good reason to be sad, to be scared, to just curl up and die in the face of impossible odds, but every time these feelings welled up in his chest, she was there. At first it was her presence, later just the thought of her. If Jaune’s dark thoughts were a blanket of clouds, Yang was sunshine, scattering them and warming his heart.

They were kissing. Jaune couldn’t recall how it had happened, but it wasn’t important. What mattered was that he could finally embrace her, taste her lips and feel her warmth again. Again, his arousal became plain, but Yang was undeterred. If anything, her arms, thrown about his shoulders, tightened.

She was standing on tip-toes to kiss him. Jaune’s hands found their way underneath the hem of her sweater and grasped her butt, as much to pull her close and lessen the strain on her feet as simply to grope her luscious body.

She was naked under the sweater, Jaune was certain. His hands roamed and found no trace of panties. Yang’s breasts felt soft and malleable even through the sweater, held by nothing but their own firmness.

They inched towards the bed, and when her heels touched it, Yang let herself fall onto it. Jaune missed her the instant she fell from his arms and her lips were torn from his, but he smiled when she sat up and pulled her sweater over her head.

He didn’t even register how it was discarded. Jaune was too busy, taking in the view, drinking it up. Yang’s smile deepened as he ogled her soft curves and flawless skin. Jaune was only rattled from his reverie when Yang started tugging at his pants. Without a thought, he took off his shirt.

When they were both naked, Yang didn’t take much to time to appraise him, instead taking one of his hands and leaning back, pulling him onto the bed with her. Jaune did not resist, couldn’t resist. As if magnetized, his lips found hers again, and his hands roamed her body. The nipples he had seen through her shirt previously were now at his fingertips, and touching them drew soft moans from Yang. He gently squeezed her breasts, marveling at their softness, and she gasped. 

He reached lower, fingers sliding over her abs and inbetween her thighs. It was soft and hot. A little fumbling led one finger between her lips to Yang’s tender insides; her _wet_ insides. Feeling the slick heat engulf and grasp him made Jaune shiver with desire. He started stroking her tentatively. Each dive of his finger went smoother than the last. Finally, Yang was so wet that Jaune dared add another finger.

“Yes!” she moaned, throwing her head back. The loss of her lips to kiss saddened Jaune, but he sought comfort in her supple skin. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, until he finally found her nipples. When he indulged in them, Yang hissed; her thighs closed around his hand and her fingers weaved through his hair, caressing him. 

Yang’s soft moaning grew needier with each passing stroke of his fingers. Jaune wanted to make her moan louder, to shout her pleasure for all of Mistral to hear, but she remained composed. Instead, it was him who yelped when she reached down herself, wrapping fingers about his aching erection. Jaune was already slick with pre-cum, making her careful strokes go smoothly. He throbbed in her hand and could hardly concentrate on playing with her anymore.

“Jaune,” she crooned, “I want it.” She emphasized the last word with a gentle squeeze of her hand. Jaune wanted it, too. He nodded and pushed himself to his knees. Yang spread her legs for him, and the sight of her wet pussy made his whole body scream for him to get a move on. Every second spent not connected with her was a second wasted. He climbed on top of her and was welcomed with a gorgeous smile and open arms. He shuddered when the prosthetic hand caressed him.

“Yang?” She blinked and looked expectantly. “Do you mind… taking that off?” Jaune asked, running fingers over her metallic upper arm.

“What?” Yang gasped, shrinking together. She held the artificial arm protectively to her soft bosom. “Why?”

“Because it doesn’t feel like you,” he said, “it’s cold and hard. You are warm,” Jaune murmured, kissing her cheek, “and soft, and wonderful.” He lifted his head again, and found Yang looking indignant. Had he said something wrong? For a long moment, there was silence, and dread crept up in Jaune’s stomach, but then he heard a soft click and Yang pulled the prosthetic off. She put the arm on the nightstand and lay there, not meeting his eyes and nursing her stump.

“Can I see?” Jaune asked. Yang shot him an angry glance, but removed her hand. The place where her arm used to be was covered in smooth skin now; the medics had done a good job. Sticking out of the center of her arm was a steel peg to attach her prosthetic to.

“I feel naked…” she whispered, and Jaune wondered if she had ever shown that part of her to anyone. He reached out and touched it. The skin felt no different from any other part of her he had touched, and why should it? Even so, Yang whimpered when his fingers brushed the place and drew circles around the peg.

Yang’s face was read, her lips pressed into a straight line. Jaune felt how tense this made her, and he thought about apologizing. However, that didn’t happen. Instead, he lifted the stump and kissed it. Yang inhaled sharply, but he didn’t stop. Jaune circled the peg with tender kisses and continued his way up her arm, over her shoulder and cheek, until his lips could brush against hers.

“You’re beautiful, Yang. All of you.” Tears welled up in her lilac eyes, and she rose to kiss him again. Yang drew shuddering breaths for a moment, but Jaune’s lips soothed up. When she had calmed herself again, she didn’t stop kissing him, but she reached down, grasping his cock, and guiding him to her entrance.

Insertion was slow, for both of their benefits. Jaune had never felt anything like it before and was struggling to contain himself, while Yang hadn’t had sex in a while and struggled to contain him. However, feeling each other’s warmth, engulfing, filling, made both of them quite comfortable by the time their hips were pressed together. Even so, Jaune was breathing hard, finding Yang’s pussy almost unbearably good. She caressed his cheek and smiled.

“Wanna try moving?” she asked. Regardless of his decision, Yang’s hips were already moving, already stimulating him. Her insides flexed and relaxed, and her legs were wrapped around him.

He couldn’t find words, so he nodded and pulled away. It was like she was holding on to him, her grip hot and slick. When he pushed again, there was almost no resistance, but once he was in, she gripped him again. Jaune wondered if she did this on purpose or if that was her body acting on its own? In any case, it felt amazing.

Jaune couldn’t keep from moaning for long, and neither could Yang. At first soft and low, as Jaune’s thrusts grew more forceful Yang found her voice. In time, her moans turned into cries, her legs and arm holding onto Jaune tightly. She was beaming at him, alternatively kissing him, or grabbing his head and making him look down at her breasts. They were jiggling in rhythm with their motions, slowly, ponderously at first, and ever more rapidly as their passion heated. It was hypnotic, and soon enough Yang didn’t need to force him anymore. Jaune was perfectly happy to stare at them bounce while he fucked her.

It was intense. It was intimate, sexy, and altogether too much for Jaune. After what felt like no time at all, he was struggling to hold his climax back. He was whimpering, trying to slow his pace, but Yang’s hip movements demanded he keep going, lest he ruined the flow. He pawed at her breasts, seeking comfort in their soft warmth, but, of course, the feeling only fueled his need.

With a strangled gasp, Jaune came. Yang shuddered and moaned as he poured his semen into her. Every throb, every shot seemed to drain strength from him, and Jaune slowly sank on top of her. He was melting into her, he felt sweaty and hot. Distantly, he wondered if he was too heavy and if Yang wanted him to get off, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to act upon it. He just listened to Yang’s sweet moans and sighs, savored the hand caressing his hair, and the lips kissing his brow.

It was late by the time they separated. With the moon as their nightlight, they lay in bed together, facing each other. Yang inched closer, snuggling up to him. Her hair was soft on his chest, and Jaune wrapped an arm around her. Holding her felt good; it felt right.

“Kinda can’t believe that actually happened,” Yang whispered. She sounded quite pleased.

“Yeah, who would have thought the great Yang Xiao Long would end up kissing Vomitboy? Ew,” Jaune chuckled. Yang pushed herself up on her stump and jabbed a finger between his ribs.

“I’ll have you know I did a lot more than just _kissing_ him,” she chided before sinking back on his chest with a smile on her lips. “And if he plays his cards right, I think I’ll do a whole lot more with him yet.”

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” Jaune whispered, joviality gone from his voice. He hugged Yang fiercely and kissed her brow. When he loosened his grip a little, she crawled higher, bringing them face to face. Her smile was like sunshine, even in the pale moonlight.

“I’m lucky to have him.”

They kissed again, and it lingered for a long time, until they drifted off to sleep together.

**Author's Note:**

> The request was just for my take on Dragonslayer, and I didn't think I'd actually do it, but here we are, and I'm fairly happy with it. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
